Love, Your Assassin
by Geda
Summary: A fiery young assassin approaches Konan in the dead of winter. Will she find her victim or the love of her life? R&R, please. (I'm not dead! Chapter 9 is up!)
1. Chapter 1

Urami rolls out of bed, cursing ferociously. She's definitely not a morning person, but today is a very important day for her. The day she will get her new assignment. 'And a large amount of money for my last one.' She thinks, smirking to herself. She picks through her closet in the nude, hoping to find a decent outfit.  
  
A slim, tight-fitting kimono catches her eye. She runs her delicate fingertips over the ebony silk. It's a very pleasing fabric, embroidered with silver and blue thread. She dresses slowly, taking her time to think. This was bound to be a much more difficult job. The difficulty always increases over time.  
  
The large sleeves cover her hands as she lowers them to her sides. She waltzes over to her small mirror. Once there, she is very content. Her fiery red tresses contrast sharply with all the colors of her outfit. She grins, the very rare expression of joy. No one had ever seen her smile in all of her 17 years; not even her family who she had discarded several years ago.  
  
She takes to combing her chin-length tresses, trying to flatten them. Usually, she let them do as they please. Her hair was often unruly, sticking up in the back. Today was important, however. Dipping her comb into the water bowl, she frowns, one of her most famous expressions, although her most noted by far was her solemn, blank face.  
  
Urami had no idea and no care that she was one of the most beautiful women in the countryside. Her honey-colored oculi were always cold and full of malice, never welcoming anybody into her presence. Her aura was confident, defiant, and strong with a hint of arrogance. Her body was light, but tall, clearly built for stealth.  
  
The young woman strides out of her house, her head held high. Fiery tresses blow gently in the wind, giving her a very temporary gentleness. It doesn't take her very long to reach the royal courtyard. She flashes her pass to the guards and marches right by. She is quickly greeted by servants and welcomed inside. There, she meets with her familiar.  
  
"Urami." A strong, charming masculine voice greets. Urami bows slightly and rather informally. "Good day, m'lord. What's my assignment?" The man watches her for a second, then replies. "I can see you would like to make this brief. Very well, then." He accepts a piece of paper from one of his servants then shows her the drawing. "You are to go after this man. He is a member of the opposing country of Konan...also one of the Suzaku seven. He goes by the name of Chichiri."  
  
Urami studies the sketch careful, noting the facial features, the blue hair with its wild bangs and the beads around his neck. There would be no mistaking this individual for any other. "Also note that he's wearing a mask, Urami." Urami nods and turns around, beginning to walk away. She then turns and gives him a friendly glare. "I'm well ahead of you, lord Nakago." 


	2. Chapter 2

While leaving the courtyard, Urami absorbs the information around her. Most of the leaves have fallen from the trees, the remaining ones being dull shades of red and brown. She kneels down to pick up a leaf and sniffs it. Ah, the sweet smell of decay. They had been here for quite a while. That ment winter was approaching fast. She stands up and brushes off her knee. An exceptionally cold breeze flutters her tresses, making them stand up like normal. She would wait to pursue her prey.  
  
Very soon, she finds herself in the comforts of her own home. She sits down in her plain wooden chair and removes one hard-bottomed shoe, then the other. She stands, and after mentally scanning the house many times, walks into a very small room. There, a tanto is resting on a pillow. She touches the blade tentatively. It's cold, like it always is. She admires the dagger lovingly. They had been to hell and back together.  
  
Looking out the window, she realizes that it's dark already. No wonder she felt drained. Without bothering to eat, she goes to her bedroom and undresses. Naked, she slips under the sheets and falls asleep.  
  
About two weeks later, a thick blanket of snow covers both the lands of Kotou and Konan. Urami wakes to the chill of winter, shivering, and dresses into her warmer, heavier clothes quickly. She goes to the kitchen section to make herself a hot mash consisting of rice, wheat, and cream. After hurriedly eating, she slips on her boots. Slowly, though, she enters the tanto's room and sheaths it. She ties the leather straps around her lower arm for a quicker extraction time.  
  
She steps outside of the room, then walks swiftly to the door of her house. After mentally scanning the house again, she steps outside. Once there, she remembers to pull up her hood to cover her mass of ember-colored hair. Smartly, she had chosen an outfit of white with faint silver patterns. She would blend in with the snow perfectly, though she would still need a mount. She decides to 'borrow' her neighbor's white stallion.  
  
She approaches his paddock quietly. The magnificent beast looks at her and snorts softly. She climbs over the fence and walks to the stallion. He sniffs her thoroughly and is not alarmed. She wraps her hand in a section of his mane and leads him to the gate. She opens it and guides him out. She mounts quickly, using no tack, and nudges him with her knees. He takes off into a canter, sending the snow flying behind him.  
  
Bent low over the stallion's neck, Urami squints against the offending snowflakes. Blindly, she guides the beast towards Konan, her mind never straying off her assignment, the blue-haired monk named Chichiri.  
  
(Weee!) 


	3. Chapter 3

Chichiri stomps his feet as he enters the palace. "Whew! It's really cold out there, no da!" Tasuki looks up from polishing his tessen. "T'aint nuthin. This' mild." Nuriko puts a hand to his frozen cheek. "Easy for you to say. You lived in the mountains." Hotohori, dressed in his elegant garments, watches the other seishi from a distance, not wanted to get the melting snow on his silken slippers. "How did it go?"  
  
The monk shakes the remaining snow off his kasa. "Very quickly, no da. It was just a few poorly trained warriors. I expected better from Kotou, no da." Tasuki raises an eyebrow. "Ye expected more from them?!" He bursts into laughter. Hotohori starts to speak, but stops. He looks out the window, watching the sunset. He then turns to the seishi. "It's time for the evening meal. Come with me." Chichiri shakes his head. "If I may, Your Highness, I'd like to decline. I'm very tired, no da."  
  
With a soft smile, Hotohori nods. "Of course you may, Chichiri." The monk bows in thanks, there takes to walking down a hallway. "Suit yerself, Chiri!" Tasuki calls out, leaving as well. Soon, there is no sign of life in the main hall except the fading wet footprints.  
  
After reaching his chamber, Chichiri removes his shoes and lies on his bed, enjoying the solitude. Such a time of peace and quiet is hard to find with seven other people running around. Sometimes, he finds himself missing the old days, the days when it was just him. He begins to doze off, a smile settled over his features hidden beneath his already smiling mask.  
  
Urami, after clearing the forest, nudges the stallion into a full gallop. Sweat was already beginning to fleck the white beast's coat with a dull gray. After just minutes, the palace comes into her view. She slows the horse down to a canter, focusing directly on it. 'Chichiri, the monk.' She muses, slowing the stallion down more so as not to be suspicious as she passes the residential areas. 'You are mine.'  
  
The wind whistles through the dead branches and screams over the rooftops. Urami smiles inwardly. It would cover up any sounds her arrival might cause. As cold and windy as it is, nobody is outside except the homeless. They groan and hold out their hands as the snuggly dressed girl passes. She ignores them, not wanting to linger in their minds. The stallion begins to lag, lethargic. Urami urges him on into the path of the wind. He shakes his head and snorting, tries to get the snow out of his eyes. It comes to the assassin that making him go further would only burden her, so she does the one thing she can do.  
  
She dismounts, untangling her hands from his mane. She strokes his neck for a minute then smacks his rump. He screams in surprise then bolts off, leaving Urami alone. Squinting against Nature's offense, she sets off again towards the palace. She stops but once to pry a large chunk of ice out of her foot. It had pierced the tough leather of her shoes and cut into her sensitive arch. She uses the snow to wash away the blood and hides the slightly pink snow under the fresh, just in case. Taking her foot out of the boot, she rips off part of her sleeve and creates a makeshift bandage. Now slightly limping, Urami faces her slight fear of not reaching the palace until after daybreak. Before, it seemed so close, but now it seems further than ever. Ignoring the fact that she's only human, she begins to walk faster. 'I must get there soon. Night is the most vulnerable time for the palace. Perfect for attack.' She lowers her eyebrows, giving her a characteristically determined scowl she was known for. Blinded by the snow and wading in it up to her knees, she moves forth, unknowing of her direction. 'Man, if my old teacher knew I would be struggling like this, he would have killed me to save himself the embarrassment.' Suddenly, the palace looms above her, casting a defensive façade. Her expression becomes more determined. She would penetrate all defenses keeping her job from her.  
  
Once out of the wicked wind, Urami feels the urge to rest. She shakes her head, denying her body. 'Not until my quarry is dead.' She climbs up the wall then disappears into a window. She hugs the wall, the back pressed tightly against it. She peers at the bed. Nobody is there. The sound of soft laughter and commotion reaches her ears. Glasses and plates clink merrily, announcing that a meal was in session. Another soft sound catches her attention; A rustle, like the sound of bed sheets.  
  
Stealthily, despite her foot, she slips into the hallway and is greeted by a closed door. 'Shit.' She thinks with a silent sneer. She makes her way back into the room then eases herself out the window. Hugging the outside wall, she inches over to the other window nearby and peers inside. Aha! There is an obvious, human-sized lump under the covers. A shock of blue hair is the only visible feature.  
  
Urami slips in the window, a grimly serious expression set into her features. She walks without making a sound, positioning herself at the foot of the bed. After eyeing the lump for a minute, she moves slightly to one side to get a view of his face. It is the perfect picture of tranquility; his eyebrows relaxed and his eye loosely shut. His other eye bears a horrid scar, suggesting he was mask-less. His lips are slightly parted as he breathes steadily. The wisps of breath cause his bangs to rise and fall in turn.  
  
A firm, foreign emotion settles in her stomach like a stone. She tries to shake it as she repositions herself at the foot of the bed. She bends her knees, crouching slightly. She draws her tanto, icy cold as ever, and begins to spring. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chichiri was dreaming about fishing on a nice spring day. He just got a tug on his line when the sky went gloomy. Wicked winds begin to blow, howling through the treetops. Forgetting his fish, Chichiri stands up and faces the wind. A low snarl directs his attention to a tiger crouching in the brush, barely in sight. He raises his arm in defense as the tiger springs at his throat.  
  
At that moment, he wakes up and spots a white form flying at him. Without thinking, he creates a shield to repel the assassin. Urami hits the field, but her tanto slices through it like butter. The tip barely touches his chest before he throws Urami off the bed, sending her crashing to the floor. She immediately gains her feet and begins to attack again. Suddenly, she can't move. She struggles to move her limbs, but they are stuck fast. Her expression radiates her fury and frustration. Suddenly, her fingers move then her wrists. Chichiri's eyebrows shoot up as he jumps to his feet and grabs his staff.  
  
It seems like only a second passes before Urami's at him again. She slices a wide arch with her tanto. It tears through his shirt and slices him across the chest. Chichiri withdraws, shocked by the frigid wound. "Cold, is it?" Urami purrs. She strikes again, one sharp downward thrust. One cut merges into two, forming a bloody cross over his chest and stomach. Chichiri grits his teeth, then using his staff, knocks her upside the head, causing her to cease her offense. She falls to the floor, unconscious.  
  
As she hits the floor, the door crashes down. In charge Tasuki, Nuriko, and Hotohori, quickly followed by the others. Their eyes travel from the crumpled girl to Chichiri. There is silence. Pointing his tessen at Urami, Tasuki breaks the silence. "What the hell is that?" Chichiri's breathing slows to a more relaxed point. "I suppose it's an assassin, no da." Nuriko crouches down. "It's a girl and she's still alive." He stands up and looks at Chichiri's wounds then at Hotohori. "Well, what do we do with her?" Hotohori scratches his head. "Good question." Everybody sweatdrops.  
  
"I bet she's from Kotou!" Tamahome exclaims, sitting down in a chair. Nuriko sits in the opposite chair and shrugs. "How are we to know?" He looks through the cell at still unconscious girl. Chichiri walks into the hall. "Hello Tamahome, Nuriko, no da." Nuriko looks up. "What's the story with your wounds?" "They're all healed up, no da. It took Mitsukake a little while, though, because there were large amounts of ice present, no da." "Ice?" his company asks in unison.  
  
There is no answer from the monk as he enters the cell. "Chichiri!" Tamahome yells. "What the hell are you doing? Get out of there!" Chichiri kneels down. With swift fingers, he unties the tanto's sheath from her wrist. He begins to stand, but then pulls back her hood to reveal her wild tresses. With that, he exits the cell, locking it securely.  
  
Nuriko stares at the girl, hands on his hips. "Well, I'll be damned. If I didn't know better, I'd say that was Tasuki laying there." Tamahome nods. "It's creepy." 


	5. Chapter 5

Nuriko yawns and stretches. "It's been two hours. She hasn't gotten up yet. I'm going to bed. I could use the beauty sleep." Tamahome nods. "I'm going to find Miaka." The two leave, followed by Chichiri; who doesn't want to be left with the girl who attempted to assassinate him.  
  
Urami, still asleep, dreams of falling. Her ember hair flickers wickedly as she descends into a lightless oblivion. Suddenly, she's aware of a presence just in front of her. She smacks into it and jumps. She awakens, a cold sweat upon her brow. The cool stone soothes her bruised cheek. Her eyes fly open, full of fury. That's right. She was caught, unsuccessful. How pathetic! Knocked out by such lowly scum! She grabs her wrist, expecting her tanto. There is nothing there. She sits up and puts her hand to her forehead. Ugh. How her head was spinning!  
  
She slaps herself across the face. 'Stupid weakling! Get a hold of yourself! You failed! FAILED! FAILED!! There's no existence for you now! You are a failure!' She launches herself to her feet with a snarl. Her eyes scan the floor with lightning speed. Her tanto is nowhere to be found. Her canines gleam in her frozen sneer. There is a sound! Urami shifts into a fighting stance. A lone person shuffles down the hall, murmuring feverishly. Wild flame-colored tresses, just a shade or two lighter than her own, are the first thing to catch her eye. Next, is his familiar style of clothes.  
  
He turns towards her then jumps. "What the fuck!" The two stare at each other blankly, as if staring in a mirror. Tasuki walks closer, in wonder. Urami's eyebrows furrow as she tries to remember where she saw this man before. Her mind plays back a document buried long ago.  
  
She's a young girl; running through a valley; bucket in hand, to get water for the soup. Long green grass tickles her bare knees. The water comes into sight. She skids to a stop then feels herself pushed into the stream with a huge splash. "Kou Shun'u!" she screams, "I'm telling Mom!" "Like ye wouldn't tell her anyways." He sits down with a sigh. "Girls, who needs 'em?"  
  
Urami's expression softens, just noticeably. "Kou." Tasuki backs up a little. "Urami.what the fuck are you doing here!?" Urami smirks. "Doing a very poor version of my job." "Assassinatin' Chiri is a job!?" Urami crosses her arms. "You wouldn't believe the pay." Tasuki cracks an identical smirk, amused. "It don't matter if yer my sister'r not. Chiri's my friend and if you try to kill'im, you'll be the one dyin'." Urami's smirk drops to a deathly serious expression. "Don't hold you breath."  
  
Soon, Tasuki leaves his sibling behind and goes to bed. Urami sits down in a lotus position to flex and extend her muscles. She would wait until she was sure everybody was sleeping, then she would attack Chichiri again. Victory would save her soiled soul, or so she thought. Her hazel eyes half close, forming a wise, cat-like expression. Urami allows her mind to rest as she prepares her body for her next strike. 


	6. Chapter 6

The corners of Urami's mouth writher slowly to form a sneer worthy of her name. Deep within her, a monster stirs. A creation born to greed, hate, pain, and discipline, it is a creature of death. In the back of her mind, Urami watches it rear its ugly head with smug satisfaction.  
  
With her cat-like ease, Urami slips through the bars and slinks out of the room. Hugging the corners of the hall, her instincts guide her to her quarry. She peaks into an open doorway, but a shock of fire colored hair identifies the person as her brother. Urami slips forth.  
  
Silently, Urami pushes a door open and peers inside. Nope. A purple braid hangs off the edge of the bed. 'It's pretty bad when you have to identify people by their hair.' Urami thinks to herself, touching her own tresses. Noiselessly, she reaches the next room.  
  
Finally! She is at Chichiri's quarters. Urami grabs her spare tanto from under her sleeve. Stealthily, she sneaks forward, raising her weapon for increased force. The monk's peaceful face is mask-less once again, bearing his scars. Urami grits her teeth, fighting her urge to leave him unhurt. A haunting voice arises in her mind. 'Weakling.' Nakago's voice mocks. Urami accidentally growls aloud, unknowingly giving Chichiri warning.  
  
Urami thrusts her arm downward at his heart. Chichiri sits up and pushes her away in one fluid motion. Urami skids on her feet, then springs back with lightning speed. Launching himself out of bed, Chichiri meets her halfway. He grabs her arm, expecting her to try and stab him. Planning on this, the assassin head-butts him in the face. Surprised, he is knocked back with ease. Urami hits him again with a sweeping kick in mid-air. He collapses to the ground. Landing solidly on her feet, Urami looks down on the wreck of a man. "What a shame. Not much fight in you, is there?" She stomps on his back, earning a pained cry.  
  
She steps back, admiring her work. The monk struggles to his feet then lunges at her, exerting a remarkable force. His superior weight pins her easily. She looks up into his face with a slight smirk. "Kinky." She whispers. Disgusted, Chichiri pulls himself away from her. Not knowing what to say, he picks up his staff. "Freak." He finally replies. Rising to her feet, Urami hisses. "You have no idea." Suddenly, his staff is under her jaw and pressed to her throat. A metal fan is held in front of her. "I told ye not to mess with my friend, bitch." Tasuki's familiar voice growls, though it barely reaching Urami's ears. 


	7. Chapter 7

"Brother...how nice of you to join us." Urami chokes out huskily. She forces a grin, though she can hardly breathe. "Brother, no da?" Chichiri asks, keeping his staff firm on her throat. Tasuki, the slightest bit embarrassed, nods. "Yep. 'rami's my twin. Crazy, ain't it?" Chichiri falters for a second, allowing Urami to inhale deeply.  
  
She seems the docile prisoner for but a few moments longer. Enraged, she throws her weight backwards into Chichiri, catching him off balance. One hand slips off his staff, allowing the assassin an escape route. She is fast, but not quite fast enough, as Tasuki releases the fury of his tessen.  
  
The girl is blindly smashed into a wall, clothes and hair ignited. Despite the pain, Urami raises to her feet, growling savagely. Bathed in flames, the femme begins to falter. She finds her right knee wobbly and fragile, while her other is coated in her own blood and blackening. For the first time in her whole life, Urami hears a pained cry escape her throat. Blood trickles out of the corner of her mouth. She feels a strange sort of pleasure and identifies it immediately. She is dying.  
  
She slowly fades into a comforting, familiar darkness. She doesn't feel the icy cold water poured over her to stop the spread of the flame. The seishi gather in the room slowly. Mitsukake, the last to arrive, looks down at her and murmurs. "It's hard to believe, but she's still alive." Tasuki's eyes grow wide. "No way!" Silent, Mitsukake nods. "Sisters 're a bitch."  
  
Chichiri, suddenly realizing his own weakness, sits himself down on his bed. "So...what do we do with her th-this time?" he asks. Miaka stomps her foot. "What we should've done the first time!" Her seishi look at her questioningly. "Make her nice!" She exclaims, feeling quite proud of herself. The warriors glance at one other, sweat dropping.  
  
Unknown to her, Urami is lifted up by Nuriko to be placed back in the cell. The assassin shudders, then involuntarily snuggles up to the cross dresser's chest. Nuriko almost drops her in reply, startled. "I thought you said she was unconscious!" He yells, not knowing what to do. Chiriko fondles his small chin, puzzling silently. Mitsukake, Hotohori, and Chichiri look at him questioningly. "Excuse me, Tasuki, but what was your mother like?" The boy finally asks.  
  
Tasuki pauses for a few seconds, too deep in thought to hear Tamahome's cry of "It's a miracle! He learned how to think!" "Cold n' demandin.' Beat us all, she did." He nods softly. "'rami ran 'way at 5." Chiriko nods, and looks at Chichiri, who's wearing a serious expression. "Though unconscious, Urami must have never been touched in a kind manner. No wonder she reacted so affectionately." The kid genius muses, looking back at the girl, who everybody else is looking at. "I'll be damned." Tamahome murmurs. 


	8. Chapter 8

Urami hangs limply in Nuriko's arms as he walks her back to the cell. He places her down gently, but his face speaks of disgust. The other seishi look on silently. Chichiri rubs his temporarily busted nose, filled with mixed emotions. What should he do if she attacked him again? Hug her to death? The idea sounds incredulous to him.  
  
"Look at me!" Nuriko yells at the others. "Now I'm covered in soot and blood! Next time, you'll pick up your own mess!" He storms away, mumbling. Chichiri watches him leave, then feels himself being stared at. He pretends to rub his forehead, wishing he had his mask. Mitsukake walks over to Chichiri, silent as ever. Chichiri moves his hand as the healer puts his palm close to his face.  
  
A few seconds later, Mitsukake removes his hand from the newly healed monk. A slight smile touches his features. "You need to get in less trouble." He jokes softly then departs. Chichiri peers at the near-dead girl lying in the cell, broken, burnt, bruised, and bloody. He hardly hears Tasuki's bellow of how out of character Mitsukake was. Her once white outfit is now twice stained with blood and nearly burnt off. Hotohori soon leaves, disgusted, and bids the remaining people good night. Tamahome picks up an exhausted Miaka and goes to put her to bed.  
  
Chiriko stands beside Chichiri, also watching Urami. He too is puzzling over what to do. "Wow...even te kid's stumped." Tasuki murmurs loudly to himself. Chichiri turns to the bandit. "What do you suggest we do with her, no da?" He asks. "Kill 'er." Is the response he receives. Chiriko also turns around. "Do really care that little about the fate of your sibling?" With an annoyed sigh, Tasuki shrugs. "I have more."  
  
Chichiri raises both eyebrows in disbelief then returns his attention to the assassin girl. His mind drifts to the holy water Mitsukake gave him. He plays with the idea, uncertain on how it would affect her. If she were consumed by evil, it would kill her. If she had just a touch, it would destroy the taint, but leave her in the same state. If she lacked the presence of darkness, she would heal some. Chiriko looks up at the much older man, intrigued by his intense thought.  
  
Uncomfortable still, Chichiri goes to his room to fetch his mask. He also takes his little bottle of holy water and puts it in the folds of his robe. 'My scar isn't that important.' He thinks to himself, striding swiftly back to the jailing quarters. He steps into the large room, only to find Chiriko and Tasuki have disappeared. 'I can't blame them.' He muses silently. 'It's very late.'  
  
He unlocks the cell then steps inside. Gathering up the shards of courage, he tilts Urami's head back a little. Cupping her head, he uses his thumb to gently open her mouth. With only one hand, he opens the bottle of holy water. The lid falls and spins away into the far reaches of the cell, cloaked in darkness. Chichiri feels himself tense up, nervous about the entire thing.  
  
He brings the rim of the container to her lips, but falters slightly. Sweat coats both his palm and troubled brow as he watches the lax face of the assassin. Gritting his teeth a little, he allows his wrist to bend and pour the holy water into Urami's mouth. 


	9. Chapter 9

Seconds seem like hours as the monk watches the assassin's features for a sign; anything at all. Her thin, titian brow twitches slightly under his watchful eye. Underneath his fingertips, a tremor ripples her slender figure. Startled, Chichiri jumps to his feet and steps back. Urami's face contorts in agony as her thin frame spasms. An unconscious, hideous sneer forms, baring her fangs. Her eyelids rise slowly, revealing glowing red oculi.

Chichiri raises his arm in defense against the terrifying sight. The holy water slips from his fingers, forgotten. The assassin girl's jaws part to release a stream of oily, black smoke, followed by the most piercing, wretched scream anybody in the palace had ever heard.

Suddenly, the world is silent. No sound come from Urami, nor himself. The stunned monk reaches for his ears, wondering if he was struck deaf. It comes into realization that he could hear the muffled noises of both of their breaths. So she wasn't dead, but merely unconscious. He peers down at her pallid features, slick with sweat. Her eyelids flicker, but remain closed. Tasuki, Nuriko, and Tamahome burst into the room, ready for a fight despite being clad in sleepwear. "What was that?" Tamahome asks. "Don't tell me yer playin' wit' my sister 'gain." Tasuki sighs. "She ain't worth no one's time."

Chichiri's eyebrows arch at the bandit's disgust, wondering what could arouse such an emotion. His own feelings catch him in a whirlwind. Why is he trying so desperately to save the life of the fae who tried to kill him? 'Sure she's beautiful, but there are many beautiful people in the world.' he muses, lost in the heavy solitude. Maybe that was it...Surely he couldn't love her. Love was something forbidden to a guy like him, a guy with so many painful memories. His scar tingles as he returns his gaze to Urami. 'She looks so harmless and weak, laying there like that....'

Suddenly, the thick silence is shattered by a heavy coughing spell. It takes the dazed monk a moment to realize where it is coming from. He steps toward the killer, completely ignoring his stunned companions, and kneels beside her. Her body is trembling from the exhaustion and pain of her long journey and laborious efforts to kill. Chichiri unconsciously lifts his hand and touches her cheek tentatively. Almost immediately, fat shimmering tears begin to slide down her cheeks, the only clue to her emotion.


End file.
